Inadequate
by tidbit22
Summary: A Month after their parent's death, the Curtis boys can't help but feel inadequate.
1. Darry

It's been a long day, but now everyday seems like a long day. The incessant sound of hammering at your first job, followed by the back breaking hauling at the second. All you wanted to do was come home and have a beer sitting in front of the tv. You wanted to shut off, but you don't get to do that. You have to come home and cook dinner. Have to deal with whatever new obstacle your brothers throw your way.

You and Pony got into it over dinner, something about a detention. You think, not even able to remember the reason you and your youngest had a screaming match at the table. A fight that had Soda out playing peace-maker, attempting to quell the rage on both sides. But it wasn't really rage on your side, just exhaustion causing you to snap. Dinner ended with low-blow insults and slammed doors. Soda had followed Ponyboy into their shared room, trying to comfort his younger brother and get him to apologize. You listened to your brother defuse the situation while doing the dishes, you're envious of their close relationship.

You want to go apologize, explain to your little brother that you didn't mean to snap. Tell him how you're just so exhausted that it was inevitable. But you don't, knowing it'll do more harm than good. You spend the night watching tv on the couch and he spends it reading in his room, Soda alternating between all the brothers. Though he's only down the hall, Ponyboy feels miles away.

Both brothers are in bed, asleep now. You listened as their jumbled conversation slowed and then stopped. Your bed doesn't seem as comfortable as it used to, no longer the safe haven you believed it to be. It can't protect you from the shadows. The wave crashes down, and you can't move. It doesn't come often, this feeling. It's hiding during the day. The time you put on your forced smiles. The time you're able to talk and work, shoving your worries to the back of your head. Keeping them as far out of sight as possible until absolutely necessary. The time when you blast the music in the truck, making sure you can't hear anything but it. The time when you get to be oblivious to your inner turmoil.

No, this feeling shows up in moment like these. After the sun's gone down and everyone's gone to bed. After you know the boys are fast asleep, not able to hear you breaking. When you're surrounded by the dark and the silence that threatens to swallow you whole. When even the soft music from the radio beside you can't drown out the thoughts in your head.

Your head physically hurts as you try to push back the tears. The tears you try and keep hidden from everyone else, especially your brothers. The tears you hold in until you've hit absolute rock bottom, after you've sunk so far below the bottom line you have to look up to see it. Tears you let fall because you know you're brother's opinion of you, and you want it to go back to what it was before your parents died. Tears you have every right too but, for the sake of those boys, you deny yourself until your lowest point.

The music is too soft for it to be doing its job, but you don't dare turn it up. You can't risk waking someone up and having them come in. You can't have someone see you like this, falling apart, because you are supposed to be the strong one. You are supposed to be holding it together for everyone, and you couldn't bear to break that illusion.

You have the thought, that your nights wouldn't be spent like this if you had stayed in college. If your parents had survived the car accident. That your night would consist of studying or raging parties. That you would be allowed to be a normal twenty year old, instead if this.

It's now that your fingernails get chewed to stubs, and you still admonish yourself for not being able to do anything right. You promised you'd try and stop, and you did for a while. But somehow that promise doesn't cross your mind as you bring your fingers to your mouth, using your coping mechanism. That promise doesn't mean much to you anymore, the person you made it to is dead. You want your mother back.

His constant obliviousness puts you on edge. Unlike Soda, he doesn't see that you're barely hanging on. He sees a hard-ass older brother who's always on his case. They way he's defiant and stubborn one minute, then crying and devastated the next. His words and emotions threaten to pull you under. The worst part is, he doesn't realize the damage he causes, he can't. What's worse than that is you can't blame him. He's a thirteen year old kid who just lost his parents. If you think you've been thrown into the deep end, how does he feel? Being a teenager is hard enough, you remember how awful you were to your parents at that age. All of this adds fuel to the fire, building a bomb full of napalm that doesn't drop until now. The flames that dull at the end of each night, but never really go out. The ones that burn even brighter at the start of the next one.

You're supposed to be the strong one. The one that puts on a brave face, ready to face whatever the day throws at you. The one that works two jobs over eleven hours, then comes home to parent two broken teenagers. The one that tries to keep everyone afloat, even though you're drowning. But that's not you tonight. Tonight you're not strong or confident. Tonight, all you want is your parents. You want them to take this job away, want them to make you feel like yourself again. Tonight, like every night, in the darkness you feel remarkably inadequate.

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**I honestly have no idea where this came from, I just wanted to experiment with Darry's feelings. Sorry that there's no dialogue, I just didn't think it fit. I also apologize for it being in second person, don't knwo where that came from either. Thanks for reading! **


	2. Sodapop

It's physical when you and Darry go at it. With your temper and his love of anything physical it was bound to happen. A few words get exchanged before you land on him, letting all hell break loose and freaking out your youngest brother. The unspoken rule is that no punches are thrown, nothing that can cause a serious injury.

Darry's fights with Ponyboy are different. They can't get physical for two reasons. Darry would crush that kid within seconds and social services wouldn't look too kindly on that. You know Darry would die if he did anything to get either of you taken out of the house. No, their fights involve words. Yelling, screaming, and low ball insults thrown from across the table. As much as it scared Ponyboy when you two go at it, it scares you when they go at it.

You keep hearing talk about another war, but it doesn't matter. Your house is a war zone already, and you're caught in the middle of it. It's obvious that Darry's had it. His work day somehow particularly stressful, his mood none the better for it. You know it'll take the slightest provocation before he's pulling out his nukes and riffles.

You're asking Ponyboy about his day, wanting to keep up on all the school drama. He's talking about English, how his teacher was being unfair. Darry doesn't notice the kid's hand snake into his pocket, but you do. Somehow you know what he's getting before he even shows you the red detention slip, silently begging him to leave it until later. To Darry, this tiny paper might as well be a declaration of war.

He lasts longer than you thought, asking your little brother what happened. He's not letting the kid answer before jumping onto the next question, a tell-tale sign Darry's getting angrier. "I didn't mean" to gets dropped over the rapid fire investigation and you have to refrain from taking cover under the table. Forget declaration of war, Darry's gonna take this as a dropped bomb on his home territory.

It takes you longer to jump in than normal. Attempting to pacify, you step onto the battlefield and end up getting pulled to either side. They fire bullets across not noticing, or caring, that they hit the peacekeeping mission stuck in the line of fire. It's when Darry drops his biggest nuke that all hell brakes loose. _This is what gets Social Services on our ass. _

That's Darry's "oh shit" button. The things he drops whenever he feels like he's losing. The thing is, he never doesn't have it ready. Even after it explodes, that bomb is back and armed. Ready to be used whenever he feels. You hate that he throws this into Ponyboy's face every chance he gets.

Just like that the whole evening is ruined and the troops retreat behind their lines. Darry puts his feet up on the couch and Ponyboy slinks of to your room. You're left picking up the pieces, cleaning up a shattered country which includes the dishes and both your brother's feelings.

Playing both sides of the line, you drift into each of their territories. Feeling more and more like your trying to make countries sign a peace agreement than getting your brothers to apologize. You hate this game they play with you. This tug-o-war that never seems to end, only pause before continuing the next night. You know they don't even realize what they're doing. Not only tearing their brotherly bond, but tearing you apart in the process.

Your shared room with Ponyboy is quiet, he's just lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling. You console him, knowing it wouldn't take long before he starts crying. Sure enough, it's a five minute conversation that brings him to his braking point. It doesn't take much these days. You assure him that Darry loves him, even when he yells. Knowing that each time you do it for your older brother, the younger one will believe it less and less. You leave him crying into the pillow after a hug, not knowing what more comfort you could offer.

You don't mention the fight to Darry. Or work. Or Ponyboy. You know he can hear the sniffles from down the hall, even with the tv on. You talk with him about the football game on, not wanting to add to his bad mood.

As you sit here, stuck on the dividing line, you can't help but think. This has always been your spot, putting out fires between the oldest and youngest. You don't know why you're not able to do it, it's your job. It's the one job you thought you could do well, other than the gas station. You are inadequate, and not just in terms of education. Your brothers sit at odds, you sit here… inadequate.

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**This is kinda short too, sorry about that. **


	3. Ponyboy

I don't want to go home, that's your first thought starring at the detention slip in your hand. You've never gotten a detention before and now is definitely not the time to Mrs. Abrams looks at you almost apologetically, she knows things are a little rough at home. But you did start that "ruckus" as she called it, might as well pay the consequences. The paper is red, screaming your transgressions at you. It weighs in your backpack, heavier than all of the textbooks combined. You have an incredibly strong urge to set it on fire, but that gets ignored.

You can remember Soda's first high school detention. Remember how mom was so pissed at him, that she didn't talk to him at dinner. Dad had dealt with him, you know because you remember laughing at how he squirmed on the old, wooden chairs. He deserved it though, the idiot had let Steve and Two-bit talk him into placing tacks on the teachers chair.

Your heart sinks, remembering how Darry reacted to that. How he had laughed as Soda told him the story. You heard their conversation through the wall, the feeling of being left out wasn't something new.

Your father wouldn't take this as seriously as he did Sodapop's. You were defending him after all, and his driving. He'd sit you down and have a talk with you, maybe even telling you what you've heard him say to your brothers. _If you think it's worth it, fight like hell. _But Darry isn't dad, he's far from it. No matter what people say your oldest brother doesn't hold a candle to that man.

Darry's more like mom, with that same sharp tongue. Both able to build you up with compliments of the highest order, and tear you down in a second with harmful words. The two of them were the rulers of insults. The only difference is, your mother would never use words against her boys like that. Darry would and he does.

You're kicking rocks on the walk home, knowing exactly what Darry's going to say. Social services is still breathing down your necks, you doubt they'll ever stop. The promise you made him keeps running through your thoughts. He had sat you and Soda down after he got custody, begging both of you to stay out of trouble. It was the one thing he had asked of you all month. Make sure to stay out of trouble and keep your grades up. That was all he wanted, and you can't even do it.

Your room has always been the place you retreat toad tonight's no different. After the fight you and Darry just had, you don't want to be in the same room as him. You can't be in the same room as him.

You've always been a bother to Darry, ever since you were little. It was ok when your parents were here, that's what little brothers are supposed to be. Now that they're gone, he's no longer your brother but your legal guardian.

He's stuck here. In this house that seems so small, probably even more so to Darry. The four walls littered with old pictures and posters might as well be cell walls, keeping him locked in. You're his unwilling jailor, keeping the screen door firmly shut. The only way he'll be released is when you walk out for the last time, somehow leaving the door ajar. But that's five years away, and you don't know if he'll be able to do it.

Darry gave up all he wanted. He left his chance at becoming someone, doing something wonderful all because of you. He's here to take care of you, and you can't even keep that promise. Everything he gave up, and you can't do the one thing her asked. Despite Soda's attempt to comfort you, the tears begin to fall.

Your brother keeps assuring you that Darry loves you, despite the yelling. It doesn't have the intended affect, making you cry harder instead. Mostly because you can't believe that, not after everything you've taken away from him. Some part of you knows he does love you, he's your brother of course he does, but you can't fathom how because you're just so remarkably inadequate.

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**Sorry about the formatting issue earlier. I had something come up so I wasn't able to fix it as fast as I would've liked, but here it is. Sorry that this one is also incredibly short. Thanks!**


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